


Suspended in Yellow

by MasterFinland



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1650s, Chibi America (Hetalia), Child America, Child Canada, Colonial Canada (Hetalia), F/M, FACE Family, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Gen, Smut, but it's quick and towards the end, most of this is just cute, old english slang, pre-colonial era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterFinland/pseuds/MasterFinland
Summary: Her expression softened at the sight before her, ignoring the fact that Alfred was messing up his nice outfit by tossing himself into her bed with a squeal. Francis had his colony’s wavy curls pulled back in his hands and a white ribbon in his mouth. He twisted what he had of the toddler’s hair into a bob, the rest falling loose against his neck and shoulders, then slid the ribbon into the place his hands had been, securing it with deft fingers. He fluffed the hair at Matthew’s shoulders once he was done, a warm, adoring smile on his face.





	Suspended in Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing hetalia in 2019? it's more likely than you'd think, apparently

Alice sighed, giving one last tug to Alfred’s bowtie, the young boy pouting dramatically and still making half-hearted attempts to push her nimble fingers away from his collar, never mind the fact that they were already retreating. 

“Why do we hafta dress up like gross old dandies?” He whined once Alice straightened herself up, finally satisfied that the toddler wasn’t going to be able to get the knot undone by himself. She smoothed the front of her heavy satin gown out before answering, wiggling a little to resituate her stomacher and the bum-roll on the rump of her dress. 

“Because this is a very special and fancy event, you little scruff, so stop complaining,” Alice hummed, amusement clinging to her features despite the rudeness of her words. “It will only last a few hours, I’m quite certain. Besides, it’s not really like I want to be there either, but I must; it’s my duty to my people, Alfred, and I have to uphold some level of giving a damn.” She smirked, the curse drawing a giggle from her charge. “And,” she leaned over to tap his nose, “since you and Matthew are far too young to be staying home by yourselves for the evening, you’ll simply have to come with Francis and I.” 

“But I don’t want to go!” Alfred stomped a socked foot against the hardwood beneath his feet, the action scrunching and twisting his sock garters.

“Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear- stop moving like that or you’re going to wrinkle your breeches! Francis doesn’t have time to steam them again.” She shot the toddler a glare, bending over to scoop him unceremoniously into her arms to rest on her hip in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum.

“Alice, no! Put me down!” He whined, kicking his legs out weakly. He had the power to really hurt her, but even when he was upset he was typically conscious of his overwhelming strength, incredible even for a nation. He was truly going to be formidable one day. Alice ignored his fit in favor of searching for her lover and their other young charge.

“Oh, hush, don’t act so spoilt. Francis, Matthew!” She called, rounding the corner of the den into the hall. She shifted Alfred into a sturdier position before taking the stairs back up to the second level of the manor. “Are the two of you almost ready yet? The carriage will be here any minute!”

She knocked roughly on her  _ (their) _ bedroom door, where she knew the two French-speaking nations were finishing up. She was in a thick, multi-layered gown, lips, cheeks, and eyes painted, and she had gotten Alfred ready herself, and had still managed to get ready before the other two. She placed a pouting, grumpy Alfred on the floor and took his little hand in her own  _ \- his small, chubby hand could barely wrap around three of her fingers -  _ before twisting the knob and entering the room.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.” 

Her expression softened at the sight before her, ignoring the fact that Alfred was messing up his nice outfit by tossing himself into her bed with a squeal. Francis had his colony’s wavy curls pulled back in his hands and a white ribbon in his mouth. He twisted what he had of the toddler’s hair into a bob, the rest falling loose against his neck and shoulders, then slid the ribbon into the place his hands had been, securing it with deft fingers. He fluffed the hair at Matthew’s shoulders once he was done, a warm, adoring smile on his face.

“Ah,  _ mon cheri! Bonjour!”  _ Francis grinned at her from his seat at her (their) vanity, Matthew blinking almost-purple eyes at her owlishly. “All done,  _ mon chen.” _ He placed Matthew on the floor, and the tiny boy trotted over to Alice with a moderately mischievous expression on his face. 

“Yes?” She raised a brow at him in question, amused and curious.

“Will you help me with my bowtie, Miss Alice? Papa never does it right.” Alice snorted at the indignant noise her lover made, a hand over his heart dramatically even though Matthew couldn’t see him, and crouched back down onto the ground. She would probably have to get Francis to re-lace her corset after all of this bending, but he never seemed to mind helping her look nice. She also needed to have Francis properly tie the ribbons in her sleeves, now that she thought about it.

“Of course I will, poppet-”

“Why does Mattie get’ta be poppet and I hafta be scruff?!” Alfred complained loudly from his place on her bed, arms and legs crossed in upset. Alice could see the way Francis tried to hide his grin as he pulled his own hair up. His reflection winked at her, and Alice snickered.

“Because he’s a dear and an angel, and you’re a little mongrel! Earn a better nickname and I’ll make sure to call you something else!” She grinned at the toddler, and Alfred’s scrunched pout wobbled as he tried to keep it in place.

Alice rolled her eyes fondly and got to work on Matthew’s tan satin tie, knotting it easily, even with the older twin giggling quietly to himself. He plopped down on his butt and held his legs out, sock garters unhooked, and wiggled his toes the best he could, clearly asking her to assist him with those as well, even though she was positive that he knew how to both loop and tie them all by himself. Alice snickered and sat down fully, Jacobean skirts fanned out around her. The lace trim of the gown was specialty, a soft white speckled with deep blue to contrast the pale color of her petticoats and bodice. 

Francis crouched behind her just as she finished knotting the dark ribbons of Matthew’s garter into his socks. “Shall I do your hair,  _ mon amour?”  _ He smoothed out the lace tucker across her shoulders and took her braided hair carefully into his hands. She hummed softly, and Francis undid the ribbon keeping the hair pinned in place.

“I’d completely forgotten,” she patted Matthew’s calf gently, silently telling him that he could go play with his brother. “Don’t make a mess or ruin your outfits, please. We need to leave shortly.” She punctuated the command with a sharp look at Alfred, who stuck his tongue out at her good-naturedly. She rolled her eyes and waved them off with a gloved hand, the two boys already shrieking as they hopped off of the bed and shot down the hall. She heard them stampeding down the large staircase and chuckled softly to herself. 

“They certainly are wild,” Francis tittered, gently unwinding her hair to let it rest in ringlets against her back. He carded his fingers through the curls, straightening them.

“Oh yes,” Alice agreed, allowing her eyes to slip shut as Francis worked his magic on her ratty hair. He was mindful of her jewelry and kerchief as he separated her hair into three sections. He gently placed the two smaller sections her shoulders, and Alice passed him the brush from the desk of the vanity before he could even open his mouth. The Frenchman pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear in thanks, smirking at the way it flushed pink almost immediately. He couldn’t see her face, but he was positive that her cheeks were the same color, if not darker. 

Francis expertly pulled the remaining section of hair up into a bun after running the brush through it a few times. He worked small braids around the roll of hair, pinning it into place when he finished. He passed Alice the brush back so that she could give a few quick strokes through the wavy tendrils whispering against the sides of her face and lightly tickling her ears. Francis took the brush from her and offered her his hand, pulling her up into a standing position.

“How does that look,  _ cheri?” _ Alice peered at herself in the mirror, not taking more than a few seconds to check herself over.

“You get better every time,” she hummed, offering him a sweet smile through her reflection in the glass. He returned it, eyes crinkling a little at the corners. He seemed so tired. “Would you mind helping me with my corset and sleeves?”

“Why you still choose to wear the virago is beyond me. They seem so much more effort than they’re worth,  _ mon amour.” _ Francis tied the deep blue ribbons with practiced movements, keeping her sleeves secured just above her elbows and at her wrists. “Did your corset come loose? I thought I had tied it pretty well.”

“I’ve been bending down to help the boys, I’m simply worried it has loosened a bit. Would you help me check?” She saw Francis nod in the mirror, and felt as he began unbuttoning her bodice. He took a few moments to make sure that the laces of her corset were properly in place before buttoning her back up and smoothing her tucker back out again. 

“There we are. How does that feel?” Alice twisted a bit, offering him a nod.

“Wonderful, love, thank you.”

“Perfect. The carriage is likely waiting out front. I’ll meet you outside with Alfred soon.” He grinned, and Alice laughed at his phrasing and its implication. “Boys!” He called, halfway through the door frame. “It’s time to go! I will meet you in the family room with your shoes, please be ready!”

“Make sure you put them in their ribboned heels. I bought new bindings for them.” Francis smiled and cupped his lover’s face after slipping back into the room, pressing a chaste kiss to her red-painted lips.

“Of course, Alice.”

* * *

Alice lightly bounced a sleeping Matthew in her arms as Francis worked on unlocking the front door. He actively rocked a softly snoring Alfred, limp like a sack of potatoes, in his other arm, damp doublet sagging and wrinkled. Rain tapped quietly against the awning above the door, soothing and beautiful. It took a few moments for Francis - face screwed up with frustration, blonde bangs curled and flat against his head from rain and sweat - to get the door shoved open and get them all inside Alice’s Norwich manor. He closed the door as quietly as he could, because Matthew was a light sleeper and the large oak door was remarkably heavy and tended to stick to the arch it rested in. 

This was one of Alice’s more modest manors, so the doors and exterior weren’t adorned with gold or other precious metals, but were simply hinged with dark-stained iron.

The grandfather clock in the massive, formal dining room down the hall chimed harshly, signalling the early morning. It echoed off of the wood-and-stone walls in a near-grating cacophony of sound, sharp and loud even from multiple rooms away. 

“I truly despise that damn thing,” Francis grunted, scowl deepening as he weaved his way around brightly lacquered mahogany furniture and expertly woven rugs. He held his free hand over Alfred’s ears, as if he didn’t already know that the ringing of the clock wouldn’t even come close to waking him.

Alice hummed, carding her fingers through Matthew’s curls in an effort to keep him asleep. “I know you do. It should quit after a few more chimes.” She stroked her thumb against the side of the toddler’s face, chest warming at the little murmurs he made. They were the noises of a tired child, noises made unconsciously, and Alice loved them, just like she loved the fluttering of his eyelids as he dreamed against her shoulder. 

“It’s still incredibly irritating,” he mumbled to Alice once she’d caught up to him, their low heels clicking faintly as they walked together, taking the stairs slowly so they wouldn’t jostle their cargo too much.

“I agree, Frog, but it is what it is.” She nudged the door to Matthew’s bedroom open. 

“Then why not just get rid of it,  _ mon amour? _ If you dislike it so much, I mean.”

“Because it’s a beautiful piece, and it was incredibly expensive.” She shot him a look, lowering the toddler carefully into bed. She tucked him in and brushed his bangs back to press a gentle kiss to his forehead before speaking again. “This type of clock is in style now, anyways, so it would seem rather odd for me to not have one, considering this is typically where I host parties. Here, I’ll take him. Go kiss your son goodnight, he always knows when you haven’t.”

Francis chuckled and passed their heavier colony over, helping Alice situate him properly on her hip. Alfred’s nose pressed into Alice’s neck, her collar having been abandoned on the ride back to the house. She hooked one arm under his legs and placed a warm hand on his back, massaging without even seeming to realize she was doing it. Francis offered her a warm, sweet smile.

“He’s your son too, Alice. He notices when you haven’t kissed him, either.” Alice flushed and rolled her eyes, sending him off with a wave of her hand. 

She made her way back into the hall, shuffling as quietly as she could down to Alfred’s room, just shy of the staircase leading up to the third floor. She shifted Alfred in her arms again as she carried him to bed, placing him carefully under the covers; the duvet was already pulled back from where Alfred had clearly failed to remake his bed that morning, so all Alice had to do was tuck him up and make sure he was comfortable.

“You’re like a wild animal, miting. You have three simple chores, and you’re unable to do even a single one.” Alice gazed at him fondly, brushing her fingers through his wheat blonde hair, much straighter and thinner than his brother’s. “Goodnight, Alfred. I adore you.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, exactly as she had done for his brother, before rising and heading from the room. She left the door cracked so the light from the candles in the hall would be visible in case he somehow awoke before the sun, and met Francis at the door to her own bedroom. 

“He didn’t wake up?” Francis took her hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

“Of course not. He never does,” she hummed, leaning against him. She allowed her eyes to slip shut for a moment, sighing contently through her nose. “My feet hurt.”

Francis laughed, nodding along. “As do mine. I even think my shoes are taller than yours!” Alice elbowed him lightly, snickering along with his giggles.

“Come help me get ready to retire, I’m exhausted.” 

“Not too exhausted for me, I hope.” Francis squeezed her hand and Alice easily returned his heated look, eyes hooded.

“I'm never too exhausted for you, darling.”

She tugged him into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them.

* * *

Alice sighed sweetly, arching off the bed as Francis pressed into her slowly for the third time that night, thighs trembling against the sheets. Her breath hitched when he bottomed out, the gasp of air turning into a quiet, pleasured moan when he immediately began to move. She loved the mild burn from the stretch after not being taken for so long, and Francis knew that, happy to take advantage of anything that made her clench and tighten around him.

He rocked them together, gently at first, but quickly picked up the pace. The floorboards creaked and the bed squealed under their weight almost inaudibly. Alice tangled her fingers into Francis’s loose curls, carding through them and tugging in time with punched-out gasps during particularly rough thrusts. Francis trailed kisses across her chest, brushing his tongue and teeth against her sensitive pink nipples every time he got to them. He pushed her thighs up, widened them and shifted his hips closer so that he was practically grinding into her, caging her in with his forearms.

Alice groaned pitifully, taking her shaking hands from Francis’s hair and gripping tightly to his biceps, digging into the flesh with her nails. She hooked her ankles around his hips, pulling them flush against each other, chest to chest and nose to nose. She pulled Francis into a desperate, sloppy kiss as he finished, still buried inside of her.

Francis kissed across her cheeks and face, panting and nearly as flushed as she as he came down from his high, limbs like jelly. He slid out of her carefully and flopped down on his side of the massive bed, running an unsteady hand through his sweaty bangs.

“Damn…” 

Alice huffed in agreement, freckles standing out starkly due to the bright flush across her body. She rolled over on her side to properly face her lover, who had already pulled his pipe from the bedside drawer. 

Alice rose as he began to smoke and snagged her nightgown from the end of the bed, already laid out in case one of the boys had woken up and needed them. She pulled it on and flopped back down, giggling at the rush of air from the pillows and duvet. Francis grinned at her, his own nightgown likely to remain untouched at the end of the bed.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve never been better.”

* * *

Alice woke to the smell of food and a heavy weight on her chest, her right arm tingly and a little numb. It didn’t take more than a few groggy seconds to figure out that Francis was cooking in the kitchen - hopefully at least in his nightgown, though she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d forgone it in favor of flaunting what he had because he simply didn’t care - and that Alfred, chubby body and all, was flung over her. How long he’d been there she didn’t know, but it probably hadn’t been long since the smell of breakfast hadn’t woken him up already. 

“Good morning, Miss Alice.” A voice whispered beside her, and Alice tilted her head to find Matthew reading beside her, smiling shyly and propped up on Francis’s pillow.

She smiled and placed a hand on his unruly mop of hair, flared out in all different directions, and stroked gently, brushing her fingers against his face. She pressed the tip of her forefinger against the tip of his button nose. 

“Good morning, Matthew. Did you sleep well?” She made a careful effort to sit up a little, mindful of the little one snoring in her lap. 

“Mhm. Did you?”

“I did, poppet, thank you for asking.” She turned her attention back to Alfred and stroked her fingers along his face, chuckling softly when his nose scrunched up and his sleep-noises stopped. “Alfred, love,” she cooed, voice tender and sweet to match the warmth in her expression. “It’s time to wake up, darling.”

“No…” He whined and cracked a pretty blue eye open, proving that he wasn’t quite as asleep as she’d previously believed. “Comfy, I don’ wanna…”

“Come now, Alfred, Francis is making breakfast. Don’t you want to eat? Matthew is going to hog it all if you don’t.” She teased, noting the look of mild indignation that the older toddler gave her and electing to ignore it. 

Alfred groaned sleepily and dragged himself into a sitting position, rubbing his bleary eyes with fat fists. After a moment he blinked up at her, clearly a little more awake than he was before.

“What’s Francis makin’?”

Alice saw Matthew mark his page and close his book out of her peripheral vision, body taut as he prepared to fling the heavy novel onto the nightstand and begin racing Alfred down to the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure. Perhaps you and Matthew should go and find out?”

Alfred’s eyes sparked with determination, and before Alice could say anything else, both boys had thrown themselves off the bed, screaming and shoving each other as they ran from the room, their feet slapping loudly against the hardwood floors.

Alice heard Francis’s surprised yell all the way up in her room, likely from Alfred accidentally slamming his body into him because he forgot to stop running and slipped, and she laughed, tossing the thick blankets off of herself to trot downstairs to meet the mess she was genuinely excited to find.

**Author's Note:**

> i know i have like a million other fics to be working on but i really just. had to write this.  
> i learned a whole helluva lot about women's fashion, slang, and houses from the 17th century for this 3500 word fic lol
> 
> (I do typically prefer the gay relationships in hetalia, please don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make things straight, but I really really love fem england with my whole heart (and plus writing one character as female means I can add babies, which, if you'd read my other works, you know I very much enjoy) im bi and goddamn do i love women)
> 
> my favorite hc is that France and England had on again off again relationships throughout the years, and jointly took care of America and Canada until their like. Early-Mid teens 
> 
> thanks guys!! <3


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